Page 65 of The Significance of Moving On

“Which is it, Tally?”

“He knows about Daniel; doesn’t know he’s been harassing me.”

“Tell him tonight, or I’ll be on your front stoop tomorrow.”

Before he lets me leave, I kiss him on the cheek and whisper again, “You’re a good friend, Able.”

For a conversation such as the one Casey and I are about to have, I decide on my drive home from school that maybe we should go out to eat. That way he couldn’t get as mad at me. I guess we’ll see if I’m right or about to be publicly humiliated.

He walks in the door about an hour after I did. In that time, I decided looking cute for him might help my case. So, I put the effort in, curling my hair and pulling on my best long-sleeved boob top—a ribbed, lavender V-neck—that I’ve paired with skinny, booty jeans and tall boots. I look hot.

And I greet him with a kiss and my coat in hand, not on. I want him to see me. “We’re going out?” he asks.

I smile.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

We get seated at the back table of our favorite pizza place. Betsi takes our order, but she hasn’t flirted with Casey since the first time he brought me here. My confidence begins to wane the longer we sit waiting for our drinks. Larger mountains have been scaled by Casey and me yet the words, the ones that should be all too easy to tell, they falter, trapped inside my mouth they’re prisoners of a war waged between families.

“What’s the occasion?” As good as the cleavage is, he actually looks me in the eyes. Stupid, I know, but this little show of respect gives me the courage boost to spill everything.

“I wanted us to have a nice night out because I thought it would make what I have to tell you easier.”

“Should I be freaking out? Because I’m starting to freak out.”

“It’s Daniel.”

“What about Daniel?” he asks, sharply.

Crap. I let out a long, slow breath.How do I do this?

“Tal, swear to god, tell me something now.”

Okay. I lay my hand on the table palm up and Casey links our fingers—and honestly by extension, our hearts—together. We’re in this together, I remind myself. “He’s… he’s beenstalkingme.”

“What the fuck, Chantal.” Chantal? He never calls me Chantal, and he rips his hand away from mine to rub it vigorously over his face. “How long?”

“Since the wedding.” I admit.

“And you’re just now telling me?”

I nod, biting my lip. Maybe going out to dinner wasn’t my best idea.

He narrows his eyes on me. “Why?”

“Um… He showed up at school today and, and he sort of threatened me.”

Casey pushes up from his chair and begins to pace. He stops next to me and opens his mouth about to say something when he snaps it back shut again, turns, and storms off toward the men’s room.

He’s calmer when he returns to the table. His collar is wet as is the hair around his hairline, which means he splashed water on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“To keep you out of prison from fratricide. He’s your family, I thought I could handle it.”

“You’remy family. God, I thought you knew that. Daniel can screw himself. Did he hurt you?”

“No. He left.”

“The son of a bitch shows up to threaten you and just leaves?”

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